


Artificial Affection

by SalaciousMind



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Amortentia, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Goodlooking Voldemort, Harry is screwed, M/M, Mental Coercion, Orgasm Delay, Rape, Sex Toys, Sexual Coercion, Sounding, Voldemort is a Dark Lord for a reason, Voldemort is a dirty bastard, enslavement, he has no morals, magical subjugation, so is the Light
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-14
Updated: 2015-04-05
Packaged: 2018-03-17 21:20:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3544205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SalaciousMind/pseuds/SalaciousMind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Voldemort can learn from his mistakes and incidentally ensures Love will end the war. Just... not the way Dumbledore had expected. Harry, naturally, doesn't get any choice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Got an idea stuck in my head, had to get it out. So here it is. Not sure whether I'll continue this AU, so for now it's marked as finished. I'm leaving myself some wriggle-room here.  
> Hope you'll enjoy this depraved fic of mine.

Night shone through the grand window, moonlight casting an ethereal glow on similarly colored skin. It reflected off the mirror in which an aristocratic man was inspecting his body as if he’d never truly seen it before. In a way that was exactly the case.

Lord Voldemort looked at his reflection, taking in the thick coils of deep red runes that decorated his new form like a serpent’s embrace. He wasn’t sure why he’d never thought of this before, but having several convenient arrays ready for use at any time would sure prove profitable somewhere in the future. With these in place he wouldn't need to rely on his wand as heavily as he had until now. The runes enabled him to cast most common and dark spells without a wand and without the decrease in strength wandless magic was prone to suffer from.

The runes however, were not the only reason he was paying so much attention to his appearance.

Voldemort knew he would never look normal, but at least he didn’t stand out like a sore thumb anymore. He was still unhealthy pale and his eyes still red, but now he had a nose, and normal lips, and hair as thick and dark as he remembered it from his time at Hogwarts. His skin actually looked quite pleasant if you disregarded the color, and he’d lost the emaciated look.

It had taken a lot of effort to regain an acceptable resemblance to his teenage self, but he believed it to be a good investment. People would be looking for a man resembling a snake, not someone who could pass for a handsome vampire. It made his movements less traceable.

To be honest it had pained him a bit to part from his previous look, as it had been a testament to his dedication to his goals. But being reborn meant erasing old features, and Lord Voldemort had never shied away from change, especially if it was for the better.

It wasn't as if his appearance was the only thing he planned to change.

It was foolish really. _Either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives._ Yes, but what if one wasn’t _surviving?_ He had researched young Harry quite thoroughly and thus knew that ‘surviving’ was actually an apt description. Both at home and at Hogwarts, always in danger, always struggling either against a present threat or the memories of a past one. And as Voldemort had proven himself, ‘to die’ did not necessarily meant _staying_ dead.

_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord._

Which never said anything about a permanent vanquishing. As far as he was concerned, that part had been proven that disastrous Halloween. And never was it mentioned that power would be used again.

As luck would have it, Voldemort knew a way to ensure it never wouldbe.

A small vial stood on the bedside table, glowing eerily in the darkness. Pink normally wouldn’t look this foreboding, but knowing what it was meant to do, looking foreboding was perfectly appropriate. It was a delightful way for Lord Voldemort to neutralize his enemy.

**~X~**

Harry twiddled his quill, listlessly staring at the homework before him.

Cedric was dead.

Harry had seen him die.

Who could care about homework?

Heaving a sigh he let his head thunk upon his desk. Harry knew he had to finish it sooner or later, but he just couldn't muster the energy.

Might have something to do with the sleepless nights. Nightmares weren't what you'd call restful.

He glanced at his calendar. 30th of July.

He looked at his clock. It read 11:52 pm. Eight minutes left till midnight.

Harry didn't feel any enthusiasm for the proximity of his birthday. For a moment the considered just going to sleep. He knew the owls would wait for a convenient moment to deliver the mail; that is, assuming his friends had had the decency to sent something more than apologetic letters for his birthday.

… No, better not. Harry really didn't want to risk his uncle going on a rampage should the neighbors happen to notice the birds in the morning. Best just to let them in now.

Yawning, Harry rose from his desk and opened the window, the only thing not rickety in the entire room, with the exception of the door. It opened with only a tiny squeak, not nearly enough to wake the Dursleys.

Another look at the clock. Almost time. Harry prepared a few dishes of water and dug up the owl treats.

In the distance the church bells rang twelve. Harry turned just in time to watch several owls land on his bed, each carrying a package.

Despite everything, Harry smiled a little, especially when he spotted Hedwig with several packages. He gently stroked her snowy head. “Welcome back, girl,” Harry murmured.

And then he frowned, an icy feeling rising in his gut.

There was one owl too many.

Harry narrowed his eyes. He believed he recognized every owl in front of him. One was Errol, an other was Pigwidgeon, and he was pretty sure he recognized the majestic eagle owl as one of the public owls from Hogwarts.

The only one he didn't recognize was a nondescript barn owl with a letter and a medium-sized package tied to its legs.

Harry frowned. Who could have sent it?

Just to be on the safe side he put on his dragon-hide gloves before reaching for the letter. Harry had learned his lesson from Hermione's hate-mail after Skeeter's horrid article.

He paused, for a moment considering simply sending the owl straight to Dumbledore. But no, he didn't want to look like a paranoid idiot if it turned out to be from someone he should have remembered.

He perked up. Hey, maybe it was from Lupin. Lupin had been a friend of his father after all, so maybe his year he'd sent something! Fifteen might be an important magical number in the Wizarding World, so... maybe?

… Yeah, no. Who was he kidding? He laughed derisively at himself. He had to be really desperate to think a man he'd only known as a professor would send something.

_Hope springs eternal._

Scowling, Harry shoved his disappointed feelings aside and leaned out of the window, arms outstretched as he opened the letter in case it spilled something hazardous.

It opened like any other letter.

Shaking his head at his own paranoia Harry relaxed, yelping as he almost let go of the piece of parchment.

Slowly he unfolded the letter, eyes skimming over the words. The last traces of tension left him. Harry almost laughed at himself, but refrained for the sake of not waking his family. So much hassle when it was just Hermione being too practical for her own good!

Smiling, he took off his gloves and started to read.

_Dear Harry,_

_First of all: Happy Birthday! I hope the owl arrived on time. As I'm going to stay somewhere else for most of the summer and couldn't_ _be sure I would be able to mail you, so I decided to send your present beforehand. The man at the Post Office in Diagon Alley assured_ _me delayed mail was no problem, but I couldn't help but be concerned._

_Please let me know if it worked? By now you should have figured out whether or not we can send owls to each other...._

_Hermione_

_PS. There's a stasis charm on the box that will break once it is no longer replenished. It only lasts a few hours, so take care to eat_ _the most perishable snack soon. I hope you like it!_

Curious, Harry opened the box. On top of several packs of sugar-free snacks sat a white box with _'me first!'_ written on top.

Harry raised the lid and blinked in surprise. It contained a small cake with lots of whipped cream and strawberries. _Happy birthday, Harry!_ was scrawled over the top with chocolate. He ran a finger through the cream and stuck it in his mouth. It tasted perfect, at if it had just been made. Far better than the stuff the Dursleys deigned to allow him.

Idly Harry wondered how the pastry was still in one piece after the flight. Definitely some sort of spell. He made a mental note to ask. _That_ should be a question she could safely answer over the mail.

Carefully placing the box on his desk he relieved the other owls from their loads. For a moment Harry reached for the next letter, but then he decided against it. He was a bit hungry and the cream had been very good. He knew pastries like those, having watched the Dursleys consume them by the dozen. Cream always tended to sag after a while, so they were best eaten as soon as possible.

The other presents could wait.

**~X~**

Harry didn't know what hit him. One moment he was simply enjoying his birthday cake, the next he couldn't tell up from down from the sudden maelstrom of emotions crashing through him. Most prominent was a yearning, no, a burning desire for someone he couldn't quite remember.

He shivered, running a hand over his face. What was happening? He wanted- He wanted... Gods, he didn't know, but he was almost desperate for it.

A whisper of wind made him turn around. Another owl had arrived, this one small and almost midnight black. Harry blinked, absentmindedly thinking the miniature bird would be almost impossible to see at night. Would probably look like one of those tiny bats from the neighborhood that Aunt Petunia sometimes complained about...

Gracefully it landed on his desk and held out its leg.

For some reason Harry's hands shook as he untied the dark envelope it carried. There was just something about it that niggled in the back of his head...

 _Dear Mr. Potter,_ it read.

 _Recently it has come to my attention that you are someone I would dearly get to know better. You are a fascinating young man that_ _does not deserve the way life has treated you and I wish I could offer you more than mere sympathetic words._

 _Unfortunately I cannot approach you myself, so though I know it is very abrupt, I would like to invite you to visit me at your convenience._ _All you have to do is put on the ring (see envelope), step outside any wards that might hamper a portkey, and say 'I now depart'._ _The portkey will bring you straight to my home._

_I pray to see you soon._

_Your sincerely,_

_V._

The niggling feeling was gone, washed away in a rush of joy. He didn't know how, but he _knew_ this V. was the one he was yearning for. He wanted to meet him, to see him, to have a face to go with the mysterious initial. For a second, just one second, he froze, wondering where the hell the feeling came from, and why on earth he even _considered_ going. He should contact Dumbledore-

Harry shook his head, doubts abruptly vanishing as if they'd never existed in the first place. Instead, he only felt elation and hope, and a startling intense fervor he couldn't explain even if his life depended on it. What on earth was he thinking? Here was a perfect chance to escape the Dursleys, to finally have someone who _cared._

Eagerly he turned the envelope upside down, grinning when a silver ring landed in his hand. It was a simple, unadorned band of polished metal. Nothing special.

It made Harry happier than anything else ever had.

Putting it on he admired it for a short moment before racing to his trunk, throwing it open without a care about noise. The Dursleys snored too loudly anyway.

Cloak, cloak, where was his invisibility cloak? Harry haphazardly threw everything out of his trunk, franticly searching for the telltale gleam of silvery fabric.

_There!_

Triumphantly he pulled the cloak out of the mess, barely stopping to throw it on before rushing out of the door. Halfway down the stairs the paused and bit his lip.

Hastily he rushed back to his room, smiling at a perplexed looking Hedwig.

“Sorry girl, but I can't take you with me. Go to Hermione, she'll take care of you until I get back, okay?” Harry told her, gently petting the soft feathers on her head.

For a long moment she stared at him. He smiled back. She gave a soft hoot that sounded oddly concerned.

“Don't worry, Hedwig, I'll be fine. I'm just going to visit someone,” he soothed.

Finally she gave him a reluctant nod. Harry smiled brightly at her. “Thank you Hedwig. I'll see you soon.”

Then he turned, rushing down the stairs. With a grin he aimed his wand at the cupboard. Even now Uncle Vernon insisted on having his broom under lock and key. Harry almost laughed. Didn't his Uncle realize how little locks meant in the face of _magic?_

The idea he might get in trouble for underage magic never occurred to him. He just needed to meet V. as soon as possible.

Mere seconds later he was outside, cloak wrapped tightly around him. Wouldn't do for the neighbors to see him. Even in the backyard there was a chance they would if they looked out of their window.

Just to be safe, Harry quickly mounted his broom. He saw an owl soar past and grinned wider than ever.

Then he kicked off, wind rushing past him with dazzling speed. Somewhere down below he heard a man shout.

_Hehe... Oops? Sounds like I was seen after all._

**~X~**

A few minutes and many, many miles later Harry landed with a thud on a grassy lawn, head still spinning from the portkey. Luckily his broom hadn't broken from the fall. He shook his head, trying to get the world to stand still. Maybe he should have considered the possible consequences of activating a portkey in mid-air before he did it.

When his vision had settled, Harry got up took an eager look around. He had arrived in front of a beautiful old mansion, the kind you expected to belong to an ancient noble family, or in a movie with some of those gentleman special agents who always got the hot girls. V. had to be very rich, to call such a magnificent building his home.

Oddly bereft of any form of hesitance, Harry dusted himself off and ran to the door, or rather, double doors, entirely forgetting about the broom and cloak left behind in the grass. It was not as if he was planning to use them anyway.

The door were at the top of a short but broad staircase and turned out to be impressively large and decorative, made from thick, dark wood and elegantly wrought iron, with grand leadlight windows made from frosted, colored glass in the top halves of the doors. For a moment Harry paused, before shrugging off the intimidating air of the building and knocking.

He barely had time to get nervous before one of the doors opened and an agitated-looking house elf beckoned him inside. Harry followed the small creature eagerly, gasping at the magnificent decor of V.'s home. V. was clearly very well off.

When, after several minutes of being guided through lavish halls, he and the elf finally arrived at their destination. In that time Harry's nerves had had more than enough time to develop, and nothing Harry tried stopped the shaking of his hands.

He swallowed harshly as the elf opened big drawing room doors, the creature bowing deeply before ushering him inside. In vain Harry tried to calm his racing heart, that for some reason had jumped into his throat and seemed perfectly content to stay there, making it impossible for Harry to thank the elf.

Wiping his clammy hands on his pants, he stepped inside. The doors closed silently behind him.

**~X~**

Dumbledore sat with his head in his hands, despair like a leaden ball in his stomach. It hadn't been too difficult to pierce the sequence of events together that had led to Harry's disappearance, and never had their mistakes been more glaringly obvious.

They should have protected Harry's friends better. Somewhere between the start of the holidays and Miss Granger's arrival at Grimmauld Place someone had cast the Imperius Curse over her, forcing her to prepare a birthday gift and an accompanying letter – both which had been found in Harry's room, carrying traces of rare, subtle compulsion charms – and afterwards erased the entire event from her memory.

They should have placed more protective wards around the Dursleys' home, ensuring that no dangerous magical objects or substances could be smuggled in with the post. Then no one would have been able to sent Harry a portkey, or a cake laced with a will-influencing potion. Severus had examined it and concluded there were similarities between the unknown potion and Amortentia; a revelation that had filled everyone with horror and dread.

They should have kept a closer watch on Harry, maybe even let him know he was being tailed so they could have been in the room with him. Maybe then they could have stopped the boy, kept him from falling for Voldemort's trap; and Dumbledore had no doubt it was Voldemort's, no one else would have adequate motives to forge such an ingenious, daring plan to lure Harry away.

They should have taken Harry's broom. Because they hadn't done that Harry had been able to get past the wards before his watcher – a role Mundungus had fulfilled that night – had been able to stop him.

They should have, they should have, they should have. Too many mistakes had been made. Too many regrets and things they _should have done._

They hadn't, and now Harry was paying the price.

From his perch Fawkes cried his grief to the skies. Even the magnificent bird couldn't retrieve the Boy-Who-Lived from wherever Voldemort had hidden him. The Dark Lord had found a way to ward out phoenixes.

Lamenting his faults, a miserably despondent Dumbledore wondered whether they'd ever see the boy again.

**~X~**

Harry gasped when he finally laid eyes on his host. Pale, near white skin, like cream or fine porcelain. Dark hair falling in waves, framing an unbelievably handsome, aristocratic face. Eyes red as rubies, sending a shiver of unease down Harry's spine before they met his green ones and Harry forgot everything as he drowned in a sea of rich, blazing carmine.

For a moment, he couldn't breathe.

And then V. spoke. It was like music, only better. Soothing, and pleasant, and lighting a blaze of heat in Harry's stomach that made him shiver.

“Hello Harry.”

Harry couldn't answer, only stare as V. rose from his seat and smiled at him, coming to a stop right before him and reaching out with elegant hands to cradle his face. Absently, Harry realized he was probably blushing like mad, his body suddenly feeling fever warm. Electrifying heat radiated from where V.'s hands rested upon his face, crimson eyes studying him closely in a way that made Harry's insides squirm.

“H-hello,” Harry managed to croak past the lump in his throat. He fidgeted, wanting to reach out and touch V.'s face in return, but not sure how such an action would be received.

Then V. took his hand, pulling him towards the couch. Dazed, Harry let V. manhandle him in a seated position, eyes flying wide open when V. sat down next to him and pulled him close against his side, one hand resting inappropriately low on Harry's hip. The other hand turned Harry's face towards him, bringing him close enough for V. to rest his lips against Harry's ear.

“Do you know who I am, Harry?”

Harry shivered at the sensation of V.'s warm breath against his ear, the sultry tone sinking straight into his blood, making it rush southwards much to Harry's embarrassment.

“N-no...?”

Harry could feel V.'s smirk, and squeaked when something hot and wet traced the outer shell of his ear, followed by teeth nipping softly at his earlobe. He squirmed as V.'s hand slipped even lower, just beneath the waistband of his pants and uncomfortably close to the hard proof of the effect the man had on him.

“I am Lord Voldemort.”

Distantly, Harry was aware that the revelation should upset him. Even more distantly Harry was aware that it was really, really wrong that it didn't, especially because it meant that it was the murderer of his parents who was molesting him. For a moment fear and bewilderment fought to reach the forefront of his mind, but the sensation of lips sliding over his cheek distracted him and blew the interfering emotions away in a blaze of heat and guilty arousal.

“What, no reaction?” Voldemort murmured against Harry's skin, sounding inordinately pleased. “Don't you care, little Boy-Who-Lived? I've killed people precious to you and tortured you. Will you just let me do as I please?”

Harry shuddered in his grasp, breath hitching when Voldemort buried one hand in his hair and pulled his head back to expose his throat, the other hand sliding fully into his pants, gently touching the base of his sex before sliding to he back and lightly resting against his entrance. Harry moaned.

“Answer me, Harry,” Voldemort whispered in his ear.

“N-no.”

“No? You don't care?”

Harry whined, softly keening as Voldemort's finger pressed harder against his entrance and silken lips brushed against his, a slick tongue darting out to taste him.

“No,” the teen whispered.

Voldemort laughed, before brutally claiming Harry's mouth, sliding his too long tongue deep in into the teen's eager cavern, roughly plundering the sweet recesses. “Then submit and spread your legs, little pet.”

Harry trembled in his grasp, welcoming Voldemort's corrupting touch. He never noticed the glint of victory in the Dark Lord's red gaze.

He _did_ notice when Voldemort forced him on his knees before him, placing Harry between his long legs and opening his pants to free his erect manhood. Harry's eyes widened in trepidation, but nonetheless allowed the Dark Lord to grab him by his hair and rub the leaking head of his hardness against his lips. Harry gasped, accidentally breathing in the musky scent, causing more heat to pool in his stomach.

Voldemort smirked and dragged Harry towards him, sliding his heated flesh into the teen's mouth.

“Suck,” he ordered.

Harry shivered, eyes glazed and lips trembling around the Dark Lord's manhood. Hesitantly, he obeyed, sucking and licking, shyly accepting the violation of his mouth for reasons he couldn't comprehend. Voldemort groaned, thrusting in and out, relishing in Harry's submissive obedience.

“Aren't you a good little pet,” he crooned, forcing Harry to take him deeper. “Already sucking my cock so eagerly, just begging to be abused.”

Harry moaned, knowing something was wrong with those words, but not in the slightest bit able to care. He looked up at cruel red eyes, mindlessly obeying Voldemort's directions, only weakly fighting his hold when the man pushed a bit too deep and threatened to make him choke.

Smirking, Voldemort plucked Harry's glasses off his nose, rendering the boy in his grasp half blind, only capable of discerning hazy shapes, forcing him to concentrate fully on the turgid flesh filling his mouth and the taste of his nemesis on his tongue. Involuntarily, Harry groaned, tongue and jaw starting to ache from the effort of bringing Voldemort to completion.

The Dark Lord let his head fall back, obviously affected by the sensation of Harry voicing his pleasure. Soon he commanded Harry to increase his efforts and Harry obeyed, arousal and embarrassment turning the teen's cheeks crimson from the lewd sounds he produced.

“Such a good pet,” Voldemort purred, before thrusting deep into Harry's mouth, almost making him gag. “Make sure to swallow everything.”

Harry did gag at the sudden explosion of viscous liquid in his mouth, a shudder running down his spine when he realized what he tasted was the Dark Lord's seed. Obeying Voldemort's command he swallowed thickly, trying to catch every drop. He didn't really succeed, instead making quite a mess of himself as the liquid splashed against his lips and face as he pulled back for air, dribbling down his chin and over his throat.

He shivered, panting from the exertion while Voldemort held his hair in a tight grasp.

“Clean yourself.”

Blinking, Harry tried to push past the haze in his head and think of a way to do so, absently licking his lips. Deciding on the easiest solution, he started wiping Voldemort's seed off his face, licking his hands clean to enjoy more of the slippery liquid. He barely noticed Voldemort's self-satisfied stare, only registering that the man was looking at him once he was done.

Harry blinked, unable to truly make out Voldemort's expression, but eagerly awaiting his next orders, squirming from his own unfulfilled desire.

“Come,” Voldemort commanded, rising from his seat after having brought his clothes back in order, and sweeping out of the room.

Harry followed on wobbly legs.

**~X~**

Voldemort was very pleased with himself, smiling as he heard the Boy-Who-Lived's unsteady gait behind him. Entering the bedroom he had the elves prepare in advance, he turned and waited for the boy to catch up.

Soon enough Harry did, stumbling into the room with wide eyes and arousal coloring his face. Voldemort was highly satisfied with the results of his potion.

“Do you want to please me, Harry?” he asked, just to be cruel. At the boy's almost frantic nod Voldemort smirked. “Then undress yourself and get on the bed.”

Harry blushed and his hands trembled from anxiety as he obeyed. Voldemort decided he liked the way the boy timidly lowered his gaze as he stripped himself.

The young wizard shivered at the loss of warmth when he let his clothes slide to the ground, timorously reveling in the feeling of those red eyes resting their heavy gaze upon him. He climbed on the bed, clearly noticing that the blankets were folded at the foot, leaving a lot of space for whatever activities the other wished to indulge in. The Dark Lord smirked at the resulting shiver.

Voldemort eyed the teen appreciatively, licking his lips at the sight of all that young flesh awaiting his touch. He glided over, his robes whispering around his bare feet. Gently he grabbed the boy’s chin, a soft caress all that was needed for Harry to give him unobstructed access to his body. He turned the face in his grasp from side to side, feigning thoughtfulness as his other hand trailed over a creamy inner thigh.

“Beautiful…” He whispered. “Although...-“ A wave with his hand and a thick black collar flew from one of the drawers. It was decorated with a silver ring that immediately brought a leash to mind, a visible proof of ownership. Harry smiled when Voldemort placed it around his throat, uncaring that the ends that fused upon meeting each other, making it impossible for him to take it off.

“There.” Voldemort smiled as he sat down and pulled the teen on his lap, running long fingers over smooth skin. Harry shivered when pale hands squeezed the globes of his ass and his archenemy stroked the sensitive ring of his entrance. A wandless spell elicited a gasp as slickness invaded his passage and Voldemort pushed one long digit deep inside. The boy whimpered in his grasp, squirming as the first finger was soon joined by two others, stretching and searching and heightening his arousal.

“Voldemort,-“ he moaned. The fingers within him stilled as Voldemort other hand grabbed his hair and roughly pulled his head back, exposing his throat.

“You will address me as Master, Harry. Am I clear?” Voldemort said calmly, letting an icy hint of threat leak into his voice.

“Y-yes, Master,” Harry gasped, blushing deep red from arousal and embarrassment in equal measures. Almost involuntarily, the teen rocked forward a little in an attempt to get some friction against his erect manhood. “Master, please…”

Voldemort eyed him thoughtfully, before removing his fingers from the boy’s insides, inwardly pleased at the whimper of protest.

With a few flicks of the Dark Lord's hand Harry was on his knees on the bed, wrists covered by soft, unyielding leather chained to the ceiling. The thin chain forced the teen to hang on his wrists as the chain was too short to actually sit. Another flick summoned several items, including two phallus-shaped objects.

One was a gag that rested almost uncomfortably close to the back of Harry’s throat, threatening to make him choke when Voldemort put it in place. A spark of wandless magic secured the gag behind the boy's head.

The other item was significantly longer, with ridges and bumps that made Harry feel every inch as his Master stretched him fare more than he was prepared for, pushing it deep into his clenching passage. Voldemort’s eyes devoured the sight, lust flickering in the red orbs as the boy visibly struggled to accept the toy inside. It wasn't as big as a real cock, but for the inexperienced boy it was almost more than he could bear to take.

Tilting his head, Voldemort slowly pulled the toy out, watching Harry sag as the pressure within receded, before cruelly slamming the toy phallus back in, incidentally hitting Harry's prostrate head on, drawing a truly _delightful_ shriek out of the Boy-Who-Lived.

Harry panted harshly around the gag, eyes wide and so dark with nervous anticipation it was almost fear. Voldemort lightly ran a finger over the boy's stretched lips, enjoying the way Harry squirmed and shifted, trying to get more of his touch while attempting to move the slightly too big toy from where it was pressing hard against his prostrate, sending wave upon wave of molten heat through the boy's body.

The Dark Lord relished in watching Harry shiver as he picked up the next item, a thin, flexible rod a little shorter than a hand, topped on one end with a round knob. Slowly Voldemort reached for Harry's erect flesh, grasping it gently yet firmly, making Harry let out a muffled moan. With sadistic delight the Dark Lord pressed the tip of the rod into Harry's slit, feeding the rod to the swollen organ and slowly filling the boy's shaft, using copious amounts of magic to ease the intrusion and keep it from harming the boy. Harry screamed and writhed, not able to stand the feeling of having such a sensitive organ invaded so intimately, sobbing at the pleasure the agonizingly slow increase of pressure inside his urethra wrought on him.

Finally the toy was in place, the knob pressed all the way against Harry's sensitive head. Harry was keening and whimpering around the gag, hanging limply from the ceiling, shaking from head to toe.

Voldemort smirked at the sight. He wasn't done yet.

Next was a black leather harness that fit snugly around Harry's form, broad bands looping across his tights and waist, running up over his chest to link to a pair of braces around his arms. Two bands crisscrossed over the boy's chest, straight over his nipples. Another band ran between the boy's legs, spreading his ass-cheeks a little and making it impossible for the plug filling his ass to slip out. A bead the size of a small walnut pressed against his perineum and snug pouches trapped both balls and cock in an intimate embrace of leather, pressing the rod just a bit deeper in Harry's already overly sensitive manhood. Every bit of leather was on the inside studded with beads that massaged every erogenous zone on the boy's body, just hard enough to make Harry squirm to escape the resulting sensations.

The Dark Lord took a step back to admire his handiwork. “There, pet, all set for the night.”

Voldemort smirked at the wide green eyes that suddenly looked so startled. A whispered _activate_ caused the beads to start stimulating the boy's skin by massaging it to the point of blazing hypersensitivity, and the plug to vibrate and move back and forth inside the boy, creating a delicious stream of muffled screams and shrieks, making the sobbing boy mindlessly trash against his bonds in an attempt to escape the onslaught.

Almost as an afterthought Voldemort waved his hand, denying his new pet any chance at respite. Harry would not orgasm nor tire, only suffer hour upon hour until the pleasure itself became a form of torture, forever hovering on the edge of unbearable until the Dark Lord saw fit to release him. In the morning he wouldn't need magic to get Harry to agree to anything he wanted.

Voldemort turned and left Harry to the sexual torture.

**~X~**

Harry couldn't think, couldn't move, couldn't _see,_ drowning as he was in an ocean of crushing, ever encompassing pleasure.

The toys. Oh god, the _toys._

Gag in his mouth, making his jaw ache and breath short and letting saliva leak past his lips and drip down his chin because it was just that bit too big. Spots danced before his eyes, the air he sucked in through his nose never seeming quite enough, the gag somehow an almost comforting weight on his tongue.

Beads pressing against all sensitive spots – like fingers, oh Merlin, like _countless fingers_ pressing and pushing and rubbing and they just didn't _stop_ – against his sides, on the inside of his thighs, over his _nipples_ – and Harry had never believed those parts of him could feel both sore and ablaze, with electric sparks dancing across like lightning – and worst of all, _between his legs_. One pressing against an insane spot between his ass and balls that sent a wave of scalding pleasure crashing through him with every vibration, and countless smaller ones against his balls and cock, sending buzzing ripples down the rod that stuffed his manhood past what Harry had ever believed possible, driving him into a mindless frenzy.

The fake cock still stretched his insides, not letting up for even a moment, moving back and forth across that maddening spot inside and buzzing, and would have made him feel as if he was intensively massaged from the inside out if it hadn't also turned his bones into liquid lust.

And he _still hadn't come._

By now Harry was just one big nerve, twitching and exposed and tingling in pure rapture, so far over the edge of desperation he couldn't even remember his own name.

Sense of self gone, consumed by the fires inside.

Harry would promise anything, _do anything,_ to get release, even if it was his worst enemy offering it.

**~X~**

Voldemort regarded the scene before him, taking one long moment to etch it into his memory.

Harry, suspended and dripping sweat, limp in his bonds except for the shudders that wracked his slim frame, green eyes glazed and unseeing, and cock jutting out straight and begging; exactly the way Voldemort had intended when he left the boy the previous evening.

The Dark Lord couldn't suppress a shiver of anticipation, feeling himself harden in response.

_Delicious._

Slowly he touched the boy's quivering stomach, delight lightening up his red eyes as Harry tried to jerk away with a whimpering moan.

 _Oh yes,_ the boy was _ready._

Quickly the Dark Lord checked for traces of magic on the teen. The altered Amortentia had ceased working, its effects no longer necessary due to the almost incoherent state Harry was in, the only active piece of magic on the boy the toys and the endurance spells.

He would wait with removing those a little longer.

Within moments he had disconnected the cuffs on the boy's wrist from the chain, catching Harry with a levitation charm before he could topple.

Harry let out a low, drawn-out whine at the sudden change of position, squirming and twisting as Voldemort floated the boy through the halls to the room he had prepared.

Entering through the big double doors Voldemort placed his nemesis on a bed covered with white sheets and painstakingly drawn runic patterns. It was surrounded by a huge ritual circle, all ready and practically humming with the magic the Dark Lord would soon invoke.

With a flick of his wand another length of chain attached to the cuffs on Harry's wrists, locking them above the boy's head once more. This time Harry was on his back on the bed, legs stretched out before him and spread wantonly, writhing and moaning because Voldemort hadn't let the toys relent for even a second. The Dark Lord needed the Boy-Who-Lived as incoherent as possible without having to resort to magic that might interfere with the ritual, which included all magic except the most basic ones. Useless spells that would do nothing to make Harry succumb to his will.

“Soon, pet, soon,” he murmured, playing with the ring on Harry's collar.

Voldemort then petrified the boy. He couldn't allow his soon-to-be pet to move around while he made the last preparations.

With a vicious smile the Dark Lord placed the tip of his wand against the top of Harry's sternum, right in the middle of the manubrium, and cast a strong numbing spell on the area to ensure Harry wouldn't snap out of his daze. Slowly Voldemort burned the rune Tiwaz in the boy's skin, focusing his mind on the aspects of the rune he wanted to exploit so his intent would embed them deeply in the boy's mind.

_Self-sacrifice._

_Loyalty._

_Faith._

A bit of his blood to coat the seared lines with his magical signature, binding the rune to him and him alone. Voldemort had worked hard to capture his prey and he refused to share his prize.

He leaned back to study his handiwork. And smiled. _Perfect._

Without further fanfare he ended all spells on Harry, vanishing the strap between the boy's legs in one fluid move. Quickly he slipped a cock-ring over the boy's weeping manhood, aided by the slick pre-cum leaking liberally past the rod still lodged inside, and took care to check that the ring fitted snugly around the base of the swollen organ so the boy wouldn't come prematurely.

Voldemort flicked the knob of the rod, enjoying Harry's weak, muffled scream.

Spotting a spark of coherence in the boy's unfocused eyes the Dark Lord removed the gag, smirking when Harry's pleading noises suddenly became that much louder.

Harry swallowed hard, gaze fixated on the man he couldn't possibly see clearly without his glasses. Voldemort made a mental note to get the boy's eyes fixed later. Those vivid green eyes were far more beautiful without them. The boy's voice was hoarse and raw when he finally managed to speak. “Ma... ster... M-Master....”

“Hello, my pet,” Voldemort greeted pleasantly, somewhat curious to see how lucid Harry really was.

“P-please... _please,_ Master _..._ I-I _can't...._ ” The words trailed off in a sob.

The Dark Lord smirked. Lucid enough to speak, but not enough to wonder who he was pleading to. Absolutely _perfect._

“Easy, pet, just a little longer,” he promised soothingly, grasping the knob of the rod. When he started to pull a hoarse scream was his reward. Voldemort slowed down to make the boy's torment last a little longer. The creeping extraction of the rod reduced the Boy-Who-Lived to a weeping, babbling mess, an endless string of pleas and cries falling from his trembling lips.

Seeing his nemesis reduced to this state was a huge turn-on for the Dark Lord, making his manhood stand proudly beneath his robes, eager to claim the boy completely.

Finally, the rod slipped free, immediately followed by a thick, steady dribble of pre-cum. Voldemort carelessly threw the tool into a corner.

With a final flourish he vanished his clothes. Placing his wand on a table just outside the rune circle Voldemort took one moment to drink in the sight of the Boy-Who-Lived in such a wanton, debauched state, crying and begging to be fucked by the murderer of his parents. It was better than anything else Voldemort could have done to the teen.

Sliding between the boy's trembling legs, Voldemort ran appreciative hands over Harry's sweat-slick skin, enjoying how the boy trembled under his fingers.

Grabbing the boy beneath his knees he guided the legs up, spreading them wide and exposing Harry's reddened entrance and the base of the toy that had fucked it open. Licking his lips, Voldemort grabbed the toy an cruelly yanked it out in one smooth move, making Harry cry out at the top of his lungs.

Before the boy could regain his breath Voldemort slammed himself inside, sheathing his hard cock inside the teen's passage with a groan of satisfaction. Harry threw his head back, mouth open in a soundless scream. Voldemort was quite a bit bigger than the toy, stretching Harry further and making him feel it every inch of his cock as it invaded his violated hole despite the night he'd had.

Voldemort stroked the boy's face almost lovingly. “You're going to confirm every claim I make and repeat it. Am I clear?”

Harry's head lolled to the side, leaning into the touch limp like a rag doll, soft whimpers and pants rushing from his parted lips.

“ _Am I clear?”_ Voldemort demanded, thrusting hard into Harry's pliant body.

“Ye- Yes...,” Harry gasped, weakly wriggling to adjust to the heat and pressure filling him to the brim.

“What are you going to do?” Voldemort asked softly, dangerously, as he pulled back for a moment, before roughly filling the boy again.

“C- Confirm every cla-claim and-... and repeat it...” Harry whimpered, glazed eyes wandering without seeing anything.

“Good boy,” Voldemort purred.

Muttering incantations under his breath the Dark Lord started the ritual, runes flaring up brightly around them, including the one on Harry's chest. Slowly he rolled his hips, making Harry moan weakly.

“I am your Master,” Voldemort declared, his tone brooking no argument.

For a moment Harry just stared, uncomprehending, before an particularly hard thrust snapped him out of it. “You- You are my M-Master,” he stuttered, whining long and low as Voldemort rewarded him with a few long strokes over his neglected manhood.

“I am your Owner.”

This time Harry caught on faster, repeating the phrase almost desperately. “You are my Owner.”

Again Voldemort pushed his hard cock into the Boy-Who-Lived, relishing in this almost effortless conquest of the child that had been his downfall. “You are mine, Heart, Body, and Soul.”

The last thrust had hit Harry's prostrate head on, and Harry only blinked confused as he tried to regain his breath.

Voldemort tightened his grip on Harry's hips, probably leaving bruises, and repeated the phrase.

“I-I am yo-yours, Heart, Body, and S-Soul.”

Voldemort smirked. “You belong to me for eternity.”

“I belong to you f-for eternity.”

“You are my property.”

Shuddering, Harry rasped, “I am your property.”

Red eyes trained on hazy green, Voldemort knew he was almost there. Within moments the Boy-Who-Lived would be no more, reincarnated as the Dark Lord's own personal human toy.

“You are MINE.”

Victory was so close he could taste it. Just one last step, one last response to seal the boy's fate....

“I am yours,” Harry repeated dutifully.

Blinding light flashed from all the runes in the room, and with a victorious shout Voldemort came within his nemesis, filling the boy with his essence and making the binding permanent. Riding out his high the Dark Lord kept fucking Harry's unresisting body as he watched the rune etch itself into the boy's flesh, a pitch black tattoo that proclaimed Voldemort's triumph and ownership for all the world to see.

The Boy-Who-Lived was dead. Exterminated. Utterly destroyed.

Voldemort had _won_.

Sobbing whimpers drew his attention. With a self-satisfied smile Voldemort gently petted the boy whose passage was still clenching around him like a vice.

“Such a good pet,” he murmured. “Let Master give you your reward.”

He removed the cock-ring and fisted Harry's hard manhood. The former Boy-Who-Lived wailed and came in seconds, passing out soon after.

Voldemort didn't care and simply ordered a House Elf to clean up everything. He had a victory to celebrate.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, not entirely expected so soon, but here's the next chapter. Again, not sure whether there'll be more after this.
> 
> And to Krysania and Sol-chan (yes, I followed your discussion, even if I'm not in the habit to reply myself), sorry, but I'm not planning to turn this into a story with any real plot. The first chapter was basically to make the situation at least vaguely plausible and to explain some of the stuff going on. This is PORN, plain and simple, and just a way from me to get a hell lot of naughty images out of my head.  
> That said, if either of you (or other readers) do want to turn this into a real story: feel free to do so. All I ask is credit for what I've written. And a notification, so I can check it out for myself and/or direct others towards that work.
> 
> Now, onto the story. Enjoy!

 

When Harry woke up he had no idea where he was. It took him a while to realize the intricate designs he had been staring at were located on a ceiling. A very beautiful ceiling, in fact. What the hell?

Automatically he reached towards his nightstand to get his glasses, before he realized he was seeing perfectly clear already. Had he fallen asleep without taking them off? He reached for his face, fully expecting his fingers to meet wiry frames, but there was nothing.

He blinked a few times. Perfectly clear vision. He ran his fingers over the bridge of his nose. No glasses.

The fuck?

Trying to get up to find a mirror turned out to be a bad idea. Harry had to bite back a painfully surprised whimper when he realized exactly how bad his body ached. The soft bed he was lying on did little to soothe his sore muscles, which felt as if he'd had a bit too enthusiastic wrestling match with one of Hagrid's pets. _Especially_ his arms. Damn, what happened?

“Young master?” a squeaking, high-pitched voice asked.

Slowly peering over the side of the bed – which was frickin' huge; how had he ended up here? – Harry discovered that the one who had spoken to him stood in the middle of the – he suddenly noticed – lavish room and bore a striking resemblance to Dobby. He supposed the voice should have been a clue.

“W-what?” Harry croaked, coughing when he found his throat was even sorer than his body, as if he'd been to an exciting quidditch match or something and had screamed himself hoarse. Seriously, what had he been doing yesterday? Last he remembered was trying to do his homework-

He froze. No, that was _not_ the last thing he remembered. He shivered. No. _No!_ No way in _hell-_

Harry let his head drop, desperately trying to keep from hyperventilating. The cake. The letters. The _portkey_ -

V. turning out to be none other than Voldemort himself.

Fighting to keep the bile in his throat from rising, he shuddered from sheer horror when he realized the odd taste in his mouth was from _sucking the man's cock_ like a goddamn _whore_ , from willingly letting _the Dark Lord ejaculate into his mouth_ and licking that monster's _cum_ from his _face_ like some fucked up cat.

Harry giggled hysterically at the unintended joke. _Fucked up. Haha._

His amusement was short-lived. He had swallowed _Voldemort's seed._ He had let Voldemort fuck his mouth and had been _happy_ to do so.

And his body- Oh, god, Harry felt sick _._ His body was so sore because he had let the _murderer of his parents_ , the one who had _tortured_ and _tried to kill_ _him_ , fuck him into the bed during some kind of ritual he couldn't remember. And Harry had welcomed it. Had _begged_ for Voldemort to shove his cock up his ass.

He had accepted Voldemort inside him, had let the man shoot his seed up his rectum and had orgasmed with his arch-enemy's flesh still spreading him open. If his friends could see him now... Harry closed his eyes, feeling the prickling of tears behind his eyelids. He did not want to imagine their disgusted reactions.

Harry was dimly aware of a voice somewhere in the room squeaking, “Ah, Lord Master, the young master is awake!”

He was snapped out of his mortified panic when a pleasant baritone answered. “Good. You are dismissed, Luppi.”

Just a few words, but sent sent icy chills down the young wizard's spine. _No, no, no; wake up, wake up, wake up!_ This _had_ to be a nightmare-

“Good morning, Harry. Or should I say 'afternoon'?”

The moment he laid eyes on his enemy all his shame and panic suddenly cut off as if someone had blasted them away, leaving him floundering in a sea of bewilderment. An alien, terrifying affection welled up in him as unstoppable as the tide.

Something in his chest tingled, as if a key had been turned in a lock and had sealed a part of his soul away. It felt frighteningly permanent.

Yet all he could stutter was: “M-Master?”

Was the man before him really Voldemort? He was nothing like the monster that had risen from the cauldron so many nights ago. This man was... well, beautiful. There was really no other word for it. An almost inhuman beauty, the contrasts between hair and skin too big to be normal, but still...

Apparently his memories from the night before could be trusted to some degree. Mere seconds ago that realization would have filled him with horrified dread, but now a sultry heat stirred in his loins instead. Harry struggled to understand his own response, but couldn't find any reason for the sudden switch. Somehow, it didn't seem so important anymore. Instead, yesterday's memories stirred something inside him. Something inexplicably eager.

“You tricked me,” Harry accused tremulously. He fought against the urge to climb to his knees and place himself at the Dark Lord's feet. His sore backside tingled in remembrance of his... Master inside him, first his fingers and then his cock, brutally claiming every bit of innocence he had. That memory should _not_ make him want to spread his legs and beg his Master to do it again.

But it did. And with every passing second Harry cared less and less.

His Master just smirked at him. “I did.”

Harry would have cried if he had been able to. Assuming he could have found a reason to be upset. “Why?”

His Master seated himself on the bed, red eyes almost thoughtful as he reached for the duvet covering Harry. Harry flinched when his Master pulled it off of him but didn't try to get it back, only blushing a deep crimson when he realized he didn't have a stitch of clothing on him.

Warm fingers touched his hip, languidly sliding over his skin until they reached his shoulder, where they dipped and brought his attention to the fact that the collar was still around his neck, a long and thin silver chain linking him to the headboard. Harry suspected the chain was a lot stronger than it looked.

Why couldn't his Master's fingers be cold like he had expected? Warm as they were their touch was disturbingly pleasant, making a vague, almost anticipatory heat curl inside him, purring at the attention he received as his Master played with his leash. Harry vaguely recalled that he shouldn't be wishing for his Master to do more, shouldn't be wishing for his Master claim on him like he had yesterday, marking him with his essence. But he couldn't remember _why_.

“Because you were a thorn in my side. My nemesis and a weapon in the hands of my enemies.”

Harry drooped, the guilt and shame that had previously been so elusive now creating a heavy ache in his chest.

His Master smirked at him, the gorgeous red eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “But you are no longer that pest of a boy, now are you, my pet?”

Fervently Harry shook his head, mortified at the thought of having been such a trial to his Master. “N-no! You are my _Master,_ I wouldn't- I don't want to-!” He swallowed, raising his eyes to meet his Master's, pleading for a way to make things right.

His beautiful Master moved fully onto the bed, his countenance victorious and pleased as he loomed over Harry. He leaned forward, hands pressing down next to the teen's head, caging his pet with his presence. His breath ghosted over Harry's ear, making the boy let out an involuntary whimper. “You wish to make up for your follies, my pet?”

Harry nodded, relieved and just a touch desperate, shivering at the sensation of his Master's robes brushing against his skin. Harry could feel his body react to his Master's proximity, his manhood rising and his passage clenching with want. Abashed, Harry tried to get his reactions under control. His Master hadn't said he wished for Harry to repent for his actions _that_ way.

His Master laughed softly in his ear. “Spread your legs, my little slut.”

Oh. So maybe his Master _did_ want it that way. Harry obeyed hastily, heat rushing through him as his Master's eyes roved over his naked flesh. A long finger sent shivers down his spine as it traced the cleft of his bum, momentarily pressing against Harry's fluttering hole before continuing upwards, over his tightening sac and up his straining erection, catching the bead pre-cum about to roll down his length. Harry moaned.

To Harry's surprise his Master rolled off of him, instead lazily reclining against a mass of pillows, red eyes watching Harry with lascivious amusement as he stretched out upon the bed. It was a very arousing sight.

Swallowing nervously, Harry turned beseeching eyes to his Master. Was his Master no longer interested? The outline of his Master's manhood seemed a good indicator he still was, given the tent in the fabric.

“Undress me, Harry.”

Harry brightened at the command, kneeling next to his Master and eagerly setting to work. One of his Master's hands ghosted over his lower back, dipping to place itself squarely upon Harry's behind, squeezing the firm globes of his ass. Moaning softly, Harry leaned forward to give his Master more room, earning a hum of approval.

A whispered word, and a viscous wetness filled Harry's empty passage. The teen sucked in a surprised breath, his hands starting to shake a little. His Master's robe had fallen almost completely open, revealing that the Dark Lord was as naked as his pet underneath.

Red eyes watched his face as the last bit of silky cloth fell away and Harry was suddenly face to face with his Master's cock. Harry reddened, casting a questioning look at his Master's face. A dark brow rose and the hand that was not molesting the teen's ass gestured at the hard flesh. Bashfully, Harry opened wide, tongue peeking out to lick some of the wetness from the blunt head, cheeks darkening at feeling the heat of his Master's shaft against his sensitive tongue. Breathing in the almost oppressive scent of his Master's sex Harry took a deep breath before closing his lips around the leaking head, sucking the heady taste of the Dark Lord's pleasure deep into his suddenly too-empty mouth.

Voldemort made a pleased noise, tangling his free hand in Harry's hair to guide him up and down. Harry whined around the Dark Lord's turgid flesh when he felt his other hole being filled as well, two fingers pushing the ring of muscles apart with a burning stretch, sinking deep into his passage. It was too much and too soon, but Harry could only moan as his sore ass was spread open by his Master's digits.

“Such a greedy hole you have, pet, letting me in so eagerly. Did you enjoy yourself that much yesterday?”

Harry shivered, restrained by the fingers in his hair and thus unable to give his Master a proper answer. The teen doubled his efforts, making eager noises as his Master slowly started to fuck him with his fingers, the tips dragging over that wonderful spot inside that made Harry feel as if his own dripping manhood was massaged from the inside out. Pleasure sparkled through his nerves, setting them on fire, and Harry could feel his length give an appreciative twitch. If he had been able to speak he would have begged.

Voldemort dragged him off by his hair, forcing Harry to straddle his hips as he let his fingers slip out of his pet's abused entrance. Running a tongue over Harry's ear – much to Harry's shy delight – he whispered, “Do you want me to fuck you, Harry?”

“Yes...,” Harry whimpered, licking his lips, panting from the molten arousal blazing through his body. Harry could feel his Master's hardness between his cheeks, wet with Harry's own saliva and radiating heat. His passage clenched around the emptiness his Master's fingers had left behind. “Master...”

Large hands on his hips guided him upwards, high enough for the head of his Master's cock to press against his entrance, his own weight pressing him down just enough for Harry to feel the hot tip spread the twitching muscles. Then his Master suddenly let go and Harry was too late to catch himself. He let out a shocked shriek as his own weight speared him with his Master's shaft, the hot flesh sliding far deeper than he had expected, his passage burning from the sudden intrusion making the already sore muscles within yelp in protest.

For a long moment Harry could only sit in his Master's lap, gasping for breath as he tried to adjust. Voldemort watched with hooded eyes, enjoying his pet's trembling reactions and the way his pet clenched around him like a living, too-tight glove.

Slowly the pain ebbed, leaving only a feverish feeling of fullness. Tentatively Harry shifted, almost choking from the resulting rush of aching pleasure. His Master felt so big inside him...

“Move, pet.”

For a moment their eyes met, large hands settling on Harry's hips and urging him upwards. Trembling, Harry closed his eyes, biting his lip as he tried to obey his Master. His legs felt like jelly, but slowly he managed to lift himself, whining in the back of his throat as his Master's cock dragged against his insides as it slid out. Halfway up Harry's legs gave out, dropping him on his Master's crotch once more. He gave a weak scream as the shaft inside him slammed against his prostrate on his way down, like an electric shock shooting pleasure through his system. Beneath him his Master made a breathy, amused sound.

Lip clenched firmly between his teeth, Harry attempted again and again, slowly getting enough control over his legs to set up a semi-steady pace, his silver leash jingling with each move, rolling his hips as his Master instructed him to increase his Master's enjoyment. Soon his muscles were burning from the exertion and his chest heaving to draw more oxygen into his protesting lungs. Sweat rolled down his body in salty rivulets, plastering his hair against his skin. His own member was throbbing between his legs, his effort to please his Master leaving him no chance to give himself any relief, and the Dark Lord not caring enough to do it for him, too busy enjoying the sight of his former nemesis fucking himself on his cock.

“What a slutty pet you are, Harry,” Voldemort murmured, pulling lightly on the leash to bring Harry's face closer to his. “Are you enjoying it, riding your master like this?”

Harry groaned and nodded, the pace his Master had demanded of him leaving him no breath to speak.

The Dark Lord smirked, reaching down to lightly rub Harry's stretched ring, teasing the sensitive skin as if wanting to emphasize the fact that it was _his_ cock filling Harry's aching passage, and Harry was willingly pleasuring his former enemy with his body in the most intimate and indecent way possible.

Harry just moaned, beyond caring that his Master was supposed to be his enemy, the animosity he had once felt for the man locked away and already almost forgotten. All he wanted was for his Master to keep fucking him, for Voldemort to find pleasure within his body and _own_ him. That he himself was finding pleasure as well was a nice bonus.

Abruptly he was flipped upon his back, his legs suddenly over his Master's shoulders as Master plowed into him, clearly fed up with his clumsy attempts, just wanting to to reach his peak. Harry threw his head back and tried to meet every thrust, breath hitching every time his Master shoved his hardness inside him. It was fast and violent and his insides felt painfully stretched and rubbed raw despite there being enough lubrication for every thrust to make a soft, squelching sound, and somehow it was _so good._

“Such a good little whore,” Master panted, leaning forward and bruised Harry's lips as he harshly kissed him, roughly plundering his pet's wet mouth. “I wonder what your parents would say if they could see you now? Or Dumbledore. How disgusted the old goat would be to know how willingly you're letting Lord Voldemort use you.”

Harry shivered, whimpering as that wonderful spot inside him kept getting hit almost painfully hard every time his Master slammed into him. “M-Master! Please!”

He felt his Master's smirk against his lips as his tongue brushed against Harry's. “Begging, little Harry? What happened to hating me, hmm?”

Harry reached out, shaking arms wrapping around Voldemort's neck, pulling him closer as Harry responded to rough plundering of his mouth, tongue shyly peeking out to taste his Master's lips. “Not anymore,” he mumbled, distracted. “You're Master... Just want Master...”

The Dark Lord's expression was positively wicked. “Oh? And what do you want from me?”

Harry's already colored cheeks darkened. “Inside me... wanting me...” Feeling bold, Harry pulled his Master's face closer, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “Filling me with seed till I can't walk...”

A sharp intake of breath and surprised laugh. “Really now? Such a wanton slut you've become. The Light Side's little whore.”

Harry nodded, barely registering what he was agreeing to, only that it was his Master degrading him and therefore it was all right. “Only for Master,” he mumbled.

He felt a grin against his throat as his Master's mouth left dark bruises in his neck. “Good.”

**~X~**

In the end, his Master used him well into the morning, to the point his entire body felt sore and his passage ached with every move he made.

Somehow, the knowledge his Master had enjoyed his body that much was more satisfying than winning a Quidditch match. Harry sighed, snuggling deeper into his pillow, basking in the glowing ache and the dazed warmth his own pleasure had left behind.

He shivered as he felt some of his Master's essence leak out of his aching hole. He tried to clench his sphincter to keep it in but the muscles hadn't recovered enough from the stretching yet, making him feel strangely vulnerable, the image of his entrance gaping open and dripping with his Master's seed refusing to get out of his head. Master could bent him over right now and ram straight in...

“Hands and knees, Harry.”

Harry almost jumped out of his skin at the unexpected order, having not noticed his Master's return from his shower. Hastily Harry obeyed, presenting the Dark Lord his leaking hole. Long fingers slid into him, coated with something cool and slick that almost immediately soothed the pain from his Master's abuse. Harry moaned softly, enjoying the sensations. His Master took care not to tease out his full arousal by avoiding that special spot inside him, for which Harry was thankful, but the slow glide of his Master's digits sliding in and out of him was pleasurable nonetheless.

Then his Master withdrew his hand. Harry turned and blinked owlishly while his Master wiped the remainder of whatever he put inside him off on a piece of cloth.

“You will remain here in this room. Luppi will bring you food soon. Before I return I expect you to have bathed and made yourself presentable. I will return in five hours. Be ready.”

Still a bit dazed, Harry nodded. He would do as Master commanded.

He barely registered his Master leaving, eyes sliding shut as exhaustion pulled him under. Five hours was plenty. He could afford to catch a bit more sleep.

Harry never noticed the numbness radiating from the mark on his chest, sealing his will and the part of him that was still screaming and crying in horror and despair, trapped behind walls of polished obsidian that isolated the person who he truly was from his magically altered mind and his throughly violated body.

 

 


End file.
